


Crazy for you

by ProfessorPlum



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-04
Updated: 2017-07-04
Packaged: 2018-11-23 10:22:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11400612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProfessorPlum/pseuds/ProfessorPlum
Summary: Jim and Sebastian have a pretty fucked up relationship, but they always make up in the end.





	Crazy for you

Jim was the one in trouble this time, not me. Usually I was the one having to apologize and shit, but not this time. 

There I was, just getting home after a particularly stressful day, I walk through the front door, daft as a twat and my nose immediately detects the smell of something savory and delicious. Kind of a wafty, warm, intoxicating smell, especially to this half starving bloke. I close my eyes and in hail, slipping off my shoes and jacket in one practiced sweep. 

What hath caused a smell so sweet, be it turkey or pork or beef perhaps? With the blind submission of a lap dog I followed that scent to the kitchen where I was met with Jim’s back as he stood over the stove. My feet sullied in skepticism. “What’s for dinner?” I asked hesitantly, standing stockily where the wood floor of the foyer met the tile of the kitchen, not daring to step any closer. Jim never cooked. He simply didn’t like it. “The result never truly justifies the means for me,” he always told me, though he was sometimes happy to help me cut vegetables while I did all the heavy cooking.

“It does smell good, doesn’t it?” He answered, kind of. Jim often answered questions with ones of his own as a rather poor tactic for avoiding confrontation. Cheeky bastard. “Go sit down at the table, it’s almost done,” Jim added cheerfully. He was in a good mood tonight.

I sat down at the already set table, he was even using the good cutlery. We normally survived on a steady diet of canned, boxed, and tv dinners when I was home to late to feel like cooking anything like most nights. The smell and sound of something sizzling in a pan was a welcoming one. I watched from the dining table as Jim brought over a plate full of a steaming hot dinner, meet, mashed potatoes, and a rich looking salad topped with nuts and creamy dressing. I didn’t even know Jim could boil water. “Wow,” I said, and rightfully so. Jim looked pleased, sitting across from me, plate-less.

“It took me ages, I hope you like it,” He said, big, brown eyes staring into my soul.

“Where’s your dinner, eh?” Call me ungrateful, but I thought it would have been more romantic to eat together if that’s what he was going for.

Jim just smiled at me, it sort of creeped me out, but it a cute way. Like a three-legged dog. “I already ate, you don’t want it to get cold,” he prompted. I shrugged my shoulders, too hungry and hypnotized by the tasteful aroma drifting up from the plate in front of me in the steam of hot food. At some point during the consumption, Jim poured us both a glass of wine and I used it to wash down the savory flavors as my stomach gradually filled. There were minor flaws sure, ways that someone a little more experienced could have easily corrected, but I would have wolfed it down regardless of the skill level that went into making it. 

I was more than halfway finished with the meal, the rapid pace of which I was shoveling food into my mouth had slowed and I was beginning feel the happy tiredness that usually accompanies a good meal. “I really appreciate this,” I told him sincerely. “You didn’t have to cook dinner for me, you know. What is this anyway, ham? It’s delicious.”

“I’m glad you like it.” Jim was sipping on his second or third glass of wine, watching me much more lazily now and the atmosphere was much less intense. “Because to be honest, I felt a little guilty giving to you at first.”

I stopped mid chew.

“Why?” Suddenly I felt like the meal was a solid, undigested mass in my stomach. “Jim, why did you feel guilty?” I repeated. 

“It’s kinda funny,” Jim said, swirling the wine around in its glass. He smiled, taking his eyes off me for what felt like the first time all night. “You ‘member the other night, when I you said I 'couldn’t cook for shit' and all that?” 

“No.” I did remember it, but I didn’t know he did too. He had burned something, made the whole house cloudy with smoke for a good hour. I was just angry, I hadn’t meant it. I was just tired and hungry at the time, a combination that'll break any man.

“Well, you did. You said I shouldn’t bother cooking. Well guess what? I cooked you hardest fucking thing there is.” He spoke almost proudly. “It’s not like you can just google recipes for cooking human. I had to improvised. Also, I know a guy.”

My throat felt tight as I stared down at the remanence of my dinner. “What the fuck?” I said quietly. “What the fuck, Jim!?” I yelled, pushing the plate forcefully away from me and standing to my feet which seemed to startle Jim, his eyes were wide.

“There you go again being ungrateful,” Jim said and I could hear the sneer in his voice.

“Ungrateful?” I spat. “You just fed me HUMAN, you sick, psycho fuck!” My tongue felt numb, the thought of eating someone else’s flesh was revolting and I tried not to think of the pieces still stuck in my teeth, mixing with my own saliva.

“Don’t act all superior, it’s just meat. You’re lucky I didn’t poison you instead!” That smug son of a bitch just sat there like he hadn’t just voluntarily served me a member of my own species without me knowing.

“The you eat it!” I shouted back, shoving my plate of food across the table where it hit Jim in the chest and spilled the remaining food onto his lap before tumbling onto the floor. There was a singular moment of silence when Jim looked down at the mess before he looked back up at me and chucked his wine glass directly at my head with the force of a man oblivious to consequences.

I blacked out.

 

The week following the incident, I could tell Jim knew he’d fucked up and gone too far. He had cleaned up the mess that had been a casualty of our fight, cleaned the blood off my face where the glass had hit me, and somehow managed to get all fourteen stone two of me onto the sofa while I’d been knocked out on my arse. It didn’t account for his actions however, and I was determined not to give him the satisfaction of forgiveness just because he was willing to pretend nothing had happened because it suited his agenda.

It was almost fun seeing how far I could take things while I still had Jim willing to offer repentance. I was used to getting ignored by him when I was in hot water, now I made a point not to look at him when I felt his beady eyes searching my face. It was hard, let me tell you, sleeping on the couch, not getting to put my dick somewhere warm, disregarding Jim like that honestly did make me feel a little guilty, even if he had fed me chopped up bits of human. But every time I thought about caving and just accepting the other’s apologies, I would just glide my tongue across my teeth where I swear I could still detect that peculiar tasting meat.

 

“Here you go, Tempeh stir fry. Completely vegetarian and everything.” Jim had been on his best behavior, perks of continuing to act unforgiving. He’d made me several dinners, it was almost like having a housewife to come home to. Without the tits.

He plated my meal and I pretended to inspect it before eating. Honestly I'd stopped caring so much.. He got me a beer and we got to watch what I wanted on tv, which was rare. “Are you going to stop being mad at me?” Jim asked nearly halfway through the match.

“I dunno,” I shrugged my shoulders, keeping my eyes on the screen.

I heard a tisk and imagined Jim was rolling his eyes. “Come on baby, I’ve been good, haven’t I?” He asked. I knew it was killing him, not being able to fix things.

“Yeah, but you also made me a cannibal and threw glass at my face so,” I said monotone, taking a swing of my drink and staring at the tele.

“Come on, I’ve said I’m sorry. I really mean it.” Jim moved his hand to my leg boldly, I knew the timid and apologetic state he was in wouldn’t last forever, whether I forgave him or not.

I pushed his hand away. “Cut it out, yeah? I’m still chuffed with you.”

Jim put his hand back and move it up higher on my thigh. “You can’t stay mad forever, eventually you’re going to have to let me in,” he moved a hand to my groin. “In your pants,” Jim laughed. I thought his joke was funny enough, but I didn’t want to compromise my position by smiling.

“Oh, fuck off, Jim,” I told him, but I didn’t move his hand away this time. After a week, my cock was determined to accept any form of attention it received, especially from another’s hand.  
The fact that I hadn’t pushed him away the second time only seemed to encourage Jim who quickly began palming me through my trousers, rubbing his hands over the outline my hardened cock was making in the fabric. He seemed pleased that at least some part of me was responding and soon he was on his knees in front of me before you can say blowjob. I thought about pushing him back, but it was half-time anyway.

His tricky, pale fingers unworked my belt with a familiar clinking sound. I peered down at him, unable to resist the visual pleasure I got from watching Mr. high-and-mighty take a dick in his mouth. When I felt those lips close around the head of my cock, I swear I forgot why I was even mad in the first place. It took years of practice, and all the nerve I had not to blow my load right then in Jim’s face, but the memory of Jim’s atrocities helped me regain enough composure to ride out the feeling for a bit longer.

I grabbed the back of Jim’s hair in my fingers as he sank down against my skin, taking my cock fully in his mouth. I made him stay there till I felt him gag before letting him control the pace. It felt incredible to finally have a warm, wet mouth to fuck, and I took full advantage, forcing a slow and steady ride as Jim’s mouth accommodated my large cock. He was good at taking it by now, but it was still far and few between when Jim actually felt like sucking me off until I came instead of complaining about how I take too long and just using his hand.

Jim bobbed his head and eventually I let him pick up the rhythm until my knees were practically shaking. I heard Jim make a noise of muddled protest as I gripped his hair tighter and guided his mouth down the length of my cock but I was too close to a climax to care. I groaned as my bullocks tightened and a warm feeling in my stomach exploded out of me. Jim was lapping up my cum and licking my sensitive cock and I opened my eyes and couldn’t help grinning.

I felt relaxed, all my pent-up frustration released and my worries diminished as Jim looked up at me with those deep, wide eyes. “Come here, crazy,” I said, guiding Jim up gently with the hand on the back of his head. I pulled his face up to mine and kissed him, grabbing his lips with my own and capturing them. His tongue felt comfortably warm against mine and he still tasted salty.“That was great,” I told him, our faces still close.

“That’s nice of you to say, Sebastian, but one eats meat better than you,” he joked. I wasn’t sure if enough time had passed to be able to find that funny yet, but I smiled anyway, to content to be upset.

**Author's Note:**

> What? Its been like a million years since I've written anything worth sharing. Im too critical now I guess. Anyway, hope you guys enjoyed theses weirdos !!!


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